Tempted by the Sinner: A Possessive Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  It was a Tuesday, right in the middle of the afternoon, and I was on my beat.

  Standing near the light pole, I spotted a young man with shaggy brown hair, an oversized white t-shirt, a cheap fake gold chain around his neck, and skinny jeans. He looked back at me and I saw his eyes go wide. I walked over to him, holding his gaze, and I saw him look around like he wanted to run.

  “Hi, Eric,” I said.

  “Uh, hey, Mona,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Nothing,” he said too fast, his eyes darting to the side. “Just, uh, saw the fire.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Interesting. So one of Steven’s soldiers is just hanging around outside a fire where I’m pretty sure the Jalisco were hiding some of their drugs. That’s an interesting story.”

  “Jalisco are dead,” Eric said.

  “Come on,” I said, grinning at him. “We both know that’s not true.”

  He glared at me and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to say, Mona?” he asked. “Steven told us not to talk to you when you’re working.”

  “Steven’s a dick,” I said. “Just give me something.”

  Eric shifted from foot to foot and looked away again, scanning the crowd for someone. He seemed to spot him and perked up, his eyes going wide. He got up on his toes, brought his hands out, cupped them around his mouth.

  “Yo, Steven!” he yelled over the crowd. A few heads turned and I cursed to myself.

  I could push around a new solider like Eric. With a little more cajoling, a little more pressure, he’d crack eventually. All the guys knew I was Vince’s wife, which meant they couldn’t just ignore me and treat me like shit. Otherwise, Vince would hear about it, and he’d make their life a living hell.

  It was a rough line to walk. I had to make sure I didn’t reveal any sources, didn’t let anyone know that I had a direct connection to the Leone family. I didn’t use their names and didn’t report on things that would give them away.

  And on the big stories, I let Don Leone himself read through my copy before submitting it, just to make sure it passed muster.

  He was always on my case, always complaining, but I think he liked the attention, at least to some degree. I passed him along information I heard on the newsroom floor, rumors about politicians, police chiefs, that sort of thing. A few of those rumors worked out in the family’s favor and earned me a lot of good will.

  But still, the soldiers hate it when I push them for information.

  It’s kind of fun though.

  Steven came pushing his way through the crowd and gave me a sharp glare as he stopped next to Eric. The skinny kid drifted back away from us, like he was trying to disappear.

  I crossed my arms and glared up Steven.

  “He was just about to talk, you know,” I said.

  “I know,” he said. “But you also know it’s my job to step in and make sure he’s not giving shit to journalists, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Look, what can you tell me about this?”

  “I know nothing, I saw nothing,” he said.

  “Sure,” I said. “You just happen to be here, hanging around in the crowd.”

  “Yep,” he said. “Roasting marshmallows. We’re making s’mores soon if you’re interested.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Give me something, Steven, come on. You know how this works.”

  “You’ve got a deal with the Don and I respect that,” he said. “And Vince likes to play enforcer for you, push around all the soldiers. But I’m a Capo, and I didn’t make any deals with you. So I’m going to go ahead and give you nothing at all.”

  I stared hard at him. “I’m going to tell Colleen,” I said.

  His mouth opened, worked a little, then snapped shut.

  “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  “Of course I would. She’s supportive of my career, unlike you morons. You think she’ll be happy to know you refused to help a friend out?”

  Steven held out his hands. “Come on, Mona. Don’t be like this.”

  “Give me something,” I said. “Just a little tidbit the other reporters won’t pick up on until tomorrow, after the fire department does their investigation.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But promise you won’t tell Colleen about this?”

  “I promise,” I said. “Even though we are having drinks later at O’Hare’s.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Drinks?” he asked, his eyes drifting down to my belly.

  I put my hand over the small five-month swell. “She’s drinking for both of us,” I said. “I’m sticking to the virgins.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Okay, fine,” he said. “All I’ll tell you is they’re going to find a bunch of empty, burned-up crates with Spanish writing on them. They’ll probably find some heroin residue, if they choose to test it.”

  “That’s a good tip,” I said, typing it on my phone, then looked up at him. “Where are the drugs now?”

  He gave me a flat look. “Don’t push it.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said, and smiled as sweet as I could. “You’re a dream, Steven.”

  “Whatever.” He took a deep breath and looked up at the warehouse then shook his head slowly. “Tell Vince to stop by the bakery tomorrow. We want to talk about… well, just tell him to come by.”

  “I will,” I said.

  “Thanks.” He lingered for a second then looked at me. “If you’re going to mention a source in your article, call me Karl.”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Sure, that was my great-grandfather’s name.”

  “Okay then, Karl,” I said, and made a note of it. Small thing to do for a friend, and I figured he’d be more likely to become Karl in the future if I actually did it. “I appreciate the help.”

  “I’ll see you later, Mona,” he said then looked over his shoulder at Eric. “And you, don’t disrespect her again, you understand me?”

  “But, but you told us not to talk to her,” Eric said.

  “Come on, you fucking prick,” Steven said and walked off.

  Eric gave me an awkward smile. “See ya, Mona.”

  “Bye, Eric. Stay safe.”

  He hurried to catch up with Steven, his chain bouncing on his chest.

  I spent the next couple hours interviewing as many people as I could. There were no eyewitnesses, but I learned a few interesting little tidbits, and even managed to get a firefighter to go on record. All in all, I had a pretty good story to write up, so I got in my car and drove back to the office.

  My little workspace was just as I left it. Papers were stacked in one corner, a picture of me and Vince hanging on the right side, and my computer monitor right smack in the center. I collapsed into my chair, booted up the machine, and got typing. I lost myself in crafting the story, and the drone of the office around me disappeared, the world nothing more than the words I was typing on the screen.

  “You smell like smoke,” someone said behind me.

  I half turned and saw my boss, Randy, standing with his arms crossed.

  “You sent me to a fire,” I said. “So, that’s what happens.”

  He grunted and waved a hand at me. He was a heavyset man, balding, big mustache, always seemed like he was in a hurry. He wore suspenders without irony and preferred scotch to just about anything else.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Good,” I said. “I’ll have copy on your desk in an hour.”

  “Beautiful.” He lingered and I forced myself to smile.

  “Anything else, boss?” I asked.

  “You’ve been here for a couple years now,” he said, talking slow. “And I haven’t pushed you, right?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Aside from throwing me at every story imaginable and forcing me to get copy on your desk way faster than anyone else, but sure, you haven’t pushed me.”

  He grunted, made a face. “That’s nothing,” he said. “When I was your age—”

 
“You were hauling firewood through a burning forest and happy about it,” I said.

  He glared at me. “Look, I just wanted to say, you’re doing a good job. And I think it’s time we gave you a little more freedom.”

  I perked up, surprise rolling through me. “More freedom?”

  “A little raise,” he said. “And a little promotion. I want you to write a column about law enforcement.”

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. I’d written more than a few stories about law enforcement in Philadelphia over the years, but getting my own column seemed… well, it was absurd. I was married to a freaking gangster.

  And he wanted me to write a column about cops.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  “Of course you will. First one’s due next Tuesday, make it interesting. Five hundred words.”

  “Right, I’m on it.”

  “Good.” He nodded at me once. “I’m looking forward to whatever you come up with.”

  He walked off with a huff.

  I watched him go, shocked and confused and excited all at once.

  As soon as he disappeared into his office, I turned back to my computer, finished the article, emailed it to him, and jumped to my feet. I grabbed my bag and ran out, hurrying down to my car. I got in, drove through the city, giddy and feeling stupid. I glided down Don Leone’s block and parked at the very end, but instead of going into the mansion, I crossed to the houses opposite and walked up my very own stoop.

  I unlocked my front door and stepped inside.

  It looked a lot like Vince’s house did, back before it got blown up. Modern furniture, hardwood floors, gleaming appliances in the kitchen. We bought it the week after my article on the Leone Crime Family was published in the Inquirer, spent a few months renovating, and lived there ever since.

  I threw my bag down, kicked my shoes off, and ran to the basement door. I jumped down the steps two at a time and found Vince sitting at the bench press, sweat dripping down his skin, earbuds in his ears. He looked up, surprised to see me, and took them out.

  “Hey, kid,” he said. “What are you doing home?”

  “Vince,” I said, breathless. “Something crazy happened, there was a fire, and I saw Eric and Steven, then I wrote the article and called Steven Karl and Randy came and he gave me this crazy promotion and my own column and—”

  “Slow down,” he said, standing up. “Did I hear promotion in there? And your own column?”

  “It’s about law enforcement,” I said. “Randy wants the first installment in a few days.”

  He barked a laugh and ran to me. I didn’t care that he was sweaty. He swooped me up and hugged me hard, kissing me, before putting me down.

  “Law enforcement!” he said, laughing again. “The mobster’s bride writing about cops.”

  “I know, it’s insane,” I said. “Your dad’s going to love it.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Vince put his hand on my belly then kissed me. “We’ll have to celebrate, you know.”

  “How about we just stay in tonight?” I asked. “I have drinks with Colleen later. You can have dinner ready for me when I get home.”

  “That works for me,” he said.

  “And Steven wants you to go to the bakery tomorrow. I think they want to talk to you about stolen Jalisco drugs.”

  Vince rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I heard about that. Fucking Jalisco won’t just roll over and die.” He kissed me one more time, lingering for a while, lips on mine.

  And I couldn’t believe this was my life.

  I got my dream job, my dream column. I got my dream man.

  And soon we’d have our baby, our family just beginning to grow. I never wanted this part to end, this perfect little chapter in our lives. Vince was gathering his own crew together, gaining some power on his own in the city, positioning himself to take over the family.

  Things were looking right, so right.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you too,” he said.

  “But you’re sweaty. And now I have to get changed.”

  He let me go, grinning. “You love it,” he said.

  “I know.” I eyed his body and whistled. “What a hunk.”

  “Get out of here,” he said. “I’ll think up a good dinner for you tonight.”

  “I really do you love you, you know?”

  “I know,” he said. “Now go get changed. I bet Colleen would love to move drinks up if you want.”

  “Good thinking,” I said and walked to the stairs.

  I watched him get back to working out for a second, thinking how far I’d come, and how happy I felt.

  Then I headed upstairs with a stupid, giddy smile on my face.

  Read the first alpha possessive Lofthouse novel! Possessive Doctor follows Brent Lofthouse and his new mysterious patient. When he realizes her injury isn’t what it seems, he’ll stop at nothing to protect her… and make her all his. I'll fix her… then keep her. >>Click Here to read!

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